Regrets
by InfectedByEli
Summary: I have often wondered just how damaged Oskar's mother is, due to his disappearance. Every parent's nightmare is to lose a child, I'm sure many never fully recover.


Regrets

She had been in the town centre for quite a while, busily visiting shops and drawing a neat line through the items on the list as she bought them. The handles on the plastic carrier bags, supplied free by the supermarkets, had begun to hurt her hands. She knew that she should just buy a proper bag, with real handles, but she also knew what that would mean. It would mean that she was getting old. Only old women used those kind of bags. Spotting a vacant public bench, she decided to rest for a little while, to give her fingers a dose of oxygen laden blood, with its restorative powers.

Surprisingly, was she looking forward to Christmas this year. It had been too long since she had last spent any real time with her sister and her family, and now she was going to stay there for a whole week. Her sister's husband was going to be away over the holidays, it's a work thing, so it will be just her, her sister, and the two kids, alone in the house over Christmas.

She knew her sister would be just fine without her, and she was quite sure that the invitation was a heartfelt form of charity. But charity nonetheless. At first she had wanted to say that she had had other plans, but then the idea of being around children again had become the main topic of her thoughts. These thoughts had crept up on her when she was busy doing other things; the clamour, the activity, simple childish pleasures, the energy of … life. It had been a long time, too long. She had phoned her sister back after only one day to accept her offer, and since then the excitement had been growing … a family Christmas … of sorts.

Lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed the young boy that had taken up position on the bench, next to her. The first she knew of anyone being there was a throaty cough, followed by a long, struggling sniffle. She tried not to look, it wasn't polite to just turn and look directly at a stranger. From the corner of her eye she could make out his brown coat and black gloves, but what caught her attention the most was his blonde hair. It was easy to spot as it shone in the sunlight like a beacon. Her breath caught in her chest, but she knew it wasn't him. It was never him.

She had seen him hundreds of times over the years, and had actually given chase on more than one occasion. Of course, it hadn't ever turned out to be Oskar, he was never the one she had seen, and followed. It was always some other blonde kid meeting with friends, or loving dutiful parents.

She sat on the bench, and the boy sat next to her. Neither of them looking directly at, or talking to, the other. And she started to imagine that it was ... that it was Oskar, sitting there. She imagined that he was sulking and not speaking to her, because she wouldn't buy him a toy he had wanted. That, previously, they had been shopping together, and had visited that new café in the precinct, and had warmed themselves with a hot drink. He had been quite grown up, and had held open some doors for her. Yes, he was a good boy, that loved his mother and he wouldn't do anything to... hurt her. Because he loved her. And later she would treat him to some chocolate, whatever he wanted, to make up for being strict with him earlier. Then they could wrap these presents up together at the dining table, but he would get tired and go to bed, kissing her on the cheek as he left the room...

But as the boy got up from the bench and left, she could see that it wasn't Oskar. It was never Oskar. She could feel the tears bulging at her eyes, and she hated herself just a little more. Her sensible, reproachful side spoke up, demanding answers.

"Why do you have to do it?"  
"Why do you give in every time? It makes no sense, he is gone, and never coming back".  
"Why put yourself through this?"  
"Why torture yourself?"  
"Why?"

The answer was always the same, and it was always true, "Because it's better than nothing".

For a few fleeting moments he had been back, and he had loved her, she had a future again, and she was allowed to live. But every time she fed the hunger, that little bit of her she gave was lost, and she was becoming smaller, and smaller.

She had become quite adept at hiding it over the years, the all pervading sense of loss, betrayal, rejection ... her failure. The conviction that it was all her fault was woven into her every fibre. She had been the one living with him, she had been the responsible one, she had been the one that was supposed to have been looking after him, loving him, putting him first above her own needs. She often questioned the choices she had made.

If she was honest with herself, she could tell something had been wrong with him. He wasn't the same as the other kids. He hadn't had any friends. He had used to have friends, but that had all changed, she knew that he had been troubled by something, but whenever she had tried to talk to him about it he shut her out. She had told herself that she was giving him some privacy, allowing him to keep some measure of dignity, but she had known deep down, that it had just been easier to pretend. Don't ask too many questions, don't rock the boat. It was easier to pretend that he had been happy, and then she could be happy too.

Yes, she questioned the choices she had made.


End file.
